All the Lonely People
by Fionn Fael
Summary: A walk in the rain causes Misa to confront her decisions and the reason she kept a certain detective alive. -one-shot. Possibly slight L/Misa, depending the way you look at it.-


Originally written for the Death Note Fanfiction Contest community at livejournal.

_Disclaimer: _I don't own Death Note, as should be fairly obvious.

**Theme: **week #18 - umbrella

**Characters/Pairings:** Misa, mentions of L, Light, and Matsuda. I suppose this could almost be L/Misa if you squint really, really hard.

**Summary:** A walk in the rain causes Misa to confront her decisions and the reason she kept a certain detective alive.

**Warnings:** Spoilers for the end of the Yotsuba arc and L's real name. Also: downer alert. This turned out whiny and depressing for some reason. (The reason: I'm lame.)

**A/N:** I took a few liberties with changing Misa's memory of L's real name. Please don't hate me for it... or for anything else I did horribly wrong.

Yes, I stole the title from "Eleanor Rigby" by The Beatles. Eleanor Rigby and Father Mackenzie always take the form of Misa and L, respectively, when I listen to that song. And yes, I'm not quite normal, brain-wise.

I have no idea where this came from, honestly, so I apologize if it's moronic and nonsensical.

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Thunderstorms are unusual occurrences during the winter months in Japan, when snowflakes are more common than raindrops. But on November 5th, ominous obsidian clouds rolled in to obscure the Kanto skies, threatening to unleash a turbulent downpour upon the unsuspecting cityscape below.

Misa Amane had just finished a photo shoot for yet another generic teen magazine. The up-and-coming star had to remind herself that she wasn't irritated with the fact that she'd now posed for more carbon-copy periodicals than she could count; no, she was grateful. It was positive publicity, and a more recognizable face meant more profitable work. This was her internal mantra every time she faked a smile for the cameras, every time she let make-up artists paint happiness on her face.

Misa had arrived at, and was now leaving, the location of the shoot alone. Matsuda had, in his words, been "unfortunately too busy to be Misa-Misa's manager today" and was "so, so sorry," and would "make it up to her" and blah, blah, blah. She had only nodded and responded encouragingly. She didn't tell him that she was relieved at his absence. His managerial skills were really nothing to speak of, and while he was bearable in small doses, she honestly considered him as just another nameless follower. One could only have so many kowtowing sycophants before the praise and idolization became annoying.

As Misa stepped outside onto the sidewalk, she suddenly, fearfully wondered if Light thought of her that way. Was she nothing more than a pathetic fan to him? Was she unwanted? Or worse: useless? Cool, scattered raindrops sprinkled her bleached-blonde hair, still stiff from the industrial-strength spray employed for the photo shoot. She reached into her purse, retrieving a small umbrella—black, of course, with frilly, lacy fringe—and clicked a button on the handle, extending the protective shield above her head. …No, Misa reassured herself. No, she may not have been loved—not yet, at least—but she was necessary. She was his eyes, and that was something that he could appreciate her for. She could be of great use to her beloved Light. She could help him accomplish what he could not on his own.

Right. Like she had been of such great help in remembering the name of Kira's worst enemy. Misa mentally cursed herself again as she moved along the quickly moistening pavement. She could never forgive herself for being so traitorous. Light had asked her to write L's name in the notebook. Misa had claimed to have forgotten it. Misa had lied.

She wasn't even sure why she had done it. Ryuzaki was a pale, skinny, unkempt freak, and she should have taken great pleasure in signing his death warrant. But in spite of her unshakeable devotion to and love for Light, Misa had developed an inexplicable curiosity for the strange detective. But it wasn't for lack of effort. She actively made a habit of trying to dislike L, to be disgusted with him, to think of him as less than a person. But just when she would almost be convinced of her total hatred for him, he would do something to implant reservations inside her. They were small instances, practically inconsequential, but disconcerting nonetheless. Like the time he had mused aloud in childish wonder at gaining her friendship. Or when she had kissed him on the cheek, the way he had reacted to her touch. But more than anything else, it had been his eyes. Sometimes, when she was with Light, hugging him, kissing him, spouting words of undying adoration, Misa would sense Ryuzaki's piercing, observant gaze. Of course, when she turned, he was always watching, and her reaction was always the same. She would scream, call him a pervert, and let everyone at headquarters know exactly how wrong it was for him do what he was doing. But she wasn't really upset that L was watching. She was infuriated with what she would see in his eyes. Every time he stared at them that way, Misa saw something in him that she didn't want to see. Loneliness. There was no mistaking it. His expression would remain unchanged, but those owlish, infinitely dark orbs betrayed him. No one else seemed to notice, but Misa was certain of it now. Beneath the stoic outer shell of L the enigmatic detective, L Lawliet was human. And obviously no amount of emotion control or time spent detached from the rest of the world was going to change that.

And it was this, this one simple, secret revelation that prevented Misa from removing Kira's greatest opposition. Because no matter how much she despised herself for it, she felt empathy for L. Not pity, not sympathy, but an actual connection. He, like her, understood the emptiness of living knowing that you were utterly and hopelessly alone. The desolation of a life surrounded by others, but never truly known. Never understood. And definitely never loved.

The rainfall grew heavier, the increasingly stronger wind carrying dense droplets speeding to the earth, rapidly forming puddles around Misa's feet. She walked faster.

While Misa considered her own performance as the cheerful, ditzy girlfriend impressively credible, she was quite sure that L found her act even more transparent than she found his. Despite her absent-minded façade, Misa Amane was no fool. She may have appeared slow next to prodigies like Light and L, but her bubbly, carefree "Misa-Misa" persona belied at least a fairly perceptive mind. She was certainly discerning enough to know that Light did not love her. She knew that he didn't even like her, or particularly enjoy her presence in the least. But he was both the man she loved and the embodiment of justice she worshipped. He was her everything. How could she stay away? How could she not do everything in her power to earn his affection?

Yet she had somehow given up her best chance to finally do just that. And all because she thought she saw something akin to companionship in the lifeless eyes of an enemy. Misa scowled. She couldn't believe she had risked giving up her deepest desires for the sake of L, of all people. Affirming his humanity shouldn't have kept her from killing him. What difference did it make if he was more like everyone else than he wanted to admit, or that he might have been as lonely or maybe even as desperate as she was? How could she claim to be Kira's servant if she could be swayed so easily...?

But looking at the big picture, it didn't really matter, she decided. She was sure that Light—her brilliant, beautiful Light—would still find a way to kill L, and probably do so very soon. This momentary setback would be gone forever, and she would make it up to the God of the New World by killing off millions more, if that was what it took. Before long, L Lawliet's eyes would be closed forever, and she would never again have to worry about the doubt, the disturbing camaraderie they forced her to feel.

A radiant flash of lightning illuminated the darkened autumn sky, quickly followed by an ear-splitting thunderclap that made Misa jump. The wind was blowing so hard now that she could barely see for the deluge her face was pelted with. So much for staying dry. She squinted through the rain, spotting a subway entry at the corner up ahead. Struggling against the gale, Misa at last managed to reach the underground stairwell, and ducked inside. She stopped to rest before even reaching the bottom, closing her umbrella with a sigh and leaning against the frigid gray wall. Water streamed from her limp, sopping hair to her make-up-smeared face, mascara and eyeliner streaking her sodden cheeks.

Misa shivered, hugging herself in the November cold. In Kira's perfect world, there would be no such thing as loneliness.


End file.
